Deep but Not Profound

Chapter 1 // Prince Charming

Chapter 1

"It's going to be okay," I heard a deep strange man's voice behind me. I tried my best to wipe the tears off of my face and the eyeliner off of my cheeks and around my eyes. Sniffling a few times, I turned to look at the stranger.

"It's none of your business," I retorted. I have to admit I was a little taken aback by his physical features. But why do some people act like such a fucking hero when I'm not even yelling for help or for anyone to save me and be my prince charming? "Did it ever occur to you that maybe I don't need a fucking saviour?"

"Damn, feisty one you are," he chuckled as he slowly sat next to me with caution as if I was about to push him off the ledge. Rolling my eyes, I looked straight ahead trying to hold back the overwhelming sadness. Up above, a storm was forming, just like the never-ending storm in my life. The ash painted cottons of rain hanging in the sky danced around with the wind. A sudden gush of wind stroked the hair off of my face and kissed me goodbye. I hate goodbyes.

"Haha, good for you. You're that douche bag that everyone reads about in stories. Isn't this the scene where you go on to try and win me over? We're also going to have a passionate make out session soon after, right?" the irritation from my voice was clearly audible.

He turned to look at me, no, to study me, "Does that mean you want to have that make out session now or later?"

"Fuck off," I snapped. And then he chuckled again. He fucking chuckled. Again. "What's so funny?" He just shook his head and tried to keep a straight face, which didn't last long.

Crackling a small crooked smile, he exhaled, "It's funny to see someone as short and small as you to act so damn tough, that's all."

I gave him glare then said, "Well sorry, Prince Charming, for not living up to your cruddy stereotype." He gave me a look that slightly caused my heart to ache and it hurt, but I guess I brought this upon myself. Either way, this strange guy was ticking me off; people can't just run into my broken life and expect to make everything better for me.

"Funny. Anyway, why are you here? You're in the middle of a busy bridge, just sitting on the edge as if it's routine for you. Someone as beautiful as you doesn't deserve to be so upset," his eyes captured the reflection of the beautiful ocean in front of us.

I hesitated before replying, "I get sad sometimes, or maybe a lot. People say things, people do things, and most importantly, people get hurt. It's normal but sometimes it becomes too much. Also, beauty has absolutely nothing to do with the ability to be sad. Gosh, you're so damn ignorant."

His eyes turned into sad puppy eyes as he looked at me, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you or anything. Clearly, I'm not as smooth as I thought I was." Quickly enough, he changed his expression to a blank stare. His eyes almost never matched his face; it was quite odd. It was as if his face was a façade and his eyes told the truth.

"It's alright," I cleared my throat and sniffled a little; I was nearly completely okay from crying earlier. There was a long pause before either of us spoke. I decided to give in, "I hate when people yell." My voice felt so small in that moment and a rush of memories flooded in after I spoke. There was a long moment of silence, apart from the cars whizzing by on the road. His eyes became narrow and his brows wrinkled in confusion. "As a child, my parents would argue; it was never abusive or anything, no one was throwing objects at each other and the arguing was not too loud. But to me, yelling hurt my head; I have to admit that I yell at people quite often so I guess I'm a hypocrite," I became silent. Remembering hurt me too much; I don't know why I even bothered speaking.

He lifted my chin up and looked directly into my eyes, and we just sat there, for what seemed like hours, in silence. It was a good kind of silence, the one that you want to savor and take in. He then spoke softly, "Your eyes are captivating." I didn't know how to react; I was never good at accepting compliments. He moved closer to me. My breaths turned into short gasps from the tension between us, his icy cold eyes staring down into mine.

I refused to give in. This may sound cliché as fuck, but I refused to get close to people, especially attractive guys like him—they somehow almost always turn out to be douches. I quickly looked down to my lap and twiddled my thumbs together not knowing what would come next. "Thanks," I murmured under my breath.

"Playing hard to get?" I glared at him. "I like the chase, it's a nice change," he winked, "Can I see your phone?" I handed him my phone.

He typed something on my phone then gave it back. Our fingers touched and, I swear, sparks flew. This scared me. "I know you're skeptical of me, but give me a chance, I won't disappoint you," he sounded sincere, "Look, I have to be somewhere right now, but promise me that you won't hurt yourself."

"I won't today. Thanks," I dismissed his comment on giving him a chance and watched him walk away thinking that I would never see him again.